The Redneck Detective Agency (The Redneck Detective Agency Mystery Series Book 1) (23 page)

              And with it a little higher in the back, Rusty could see right over the air intake that stuck out through the hood of the car. And today he had the pop-top on for the occasion.

              Rusty took his eye off one beauty and put it right on another. There came Gloria, in her sexy little funeral dress. It was long-sleeved, black, slinky, and came down below her knees. She had on black high heels and this wide brimmed black hat, cocked on her head with a veil coming down over her eyes.

              Sammy was walking right beside her. While she looked straight ahead, she nodded something to him. Then Sammy waved at Rusty and broke away, to go back to his car.

              Rusty opened the passenger door for her and Gloria got in. He went and got in and turned over the engine, cranked up the a/c.

              Before Rusty could say a word, Gloria said, “I just got word. Sammy just told me.”

              “What?”

              “Al just passed away.”

              “What? I thought he was recovering?”

              “He was.”

              “I just thought he was faking the amnesia.”

              “I did at first. But now I don’t think so. He walked to the bathroom, came out and was about to get into his hospital bed and he dropped dead on the floor with a heart attack. You know, that’s how his father died. They had weak hearts.”

              Rusty drifted away a moment, wondered if Al had committed suicide, had just willed the heart attack on himself with some of that bizarre stuff he knew.

              Then Rusty snapped out of it. He put his hand over on Gloria’s. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know you two must have had some good times. He was a very handsome and charismatic man. He had so much good in him. And sociable, too.”

              “Exactly my feelings, Rusty. Isn’t that strange. So much good in him, but the evil took over,” Gloria said and then pointed ahead.

              Rusty looked. The procession was moving. He put the Mercedes in drive and caught up.

              “Does Vivian know?” Rusty asked.

              “Yeah. She was at the hospital.”

              “I wonder how she’s taking it?”

              “Pretty well, I guess. I invited her to stay at my house. Now that Al’s passed away, she may come stay with me before she goes back.”

              “Goes back where?”

              “Oh, you don’t know do you?”

              “Know what?”

              “She’s one of the heirs to the Johnson fortune.”

              “What Johnson fortune?”

              “You know, Johnson outboards.”

              “Oh, my God. If only my daddy had lived to know I had gone grabbling with a Johnson outboard heir.”

Chapter 48

It was the first funeral Rusty ever attended where the corpse wasn’t there. And it was the first funeral he had ever been to where less than twenty people attended. And all of those were only there because they were Gloria’s friends except for Vivian and Al’s old college pal.

              Gloria planned and paid for all of Al’s final arrangements. Al had no next of kin. His uncles and aunts were passed away and he had a couple of second cousins somewhere he had seen only once when he was six years old and none of them lived in Alabama.

              After the service at the Clear Springs Methodist Church, Gloria invited everyone to her house for refreshments. It came off as a quiet cocktail party. Vargas Preston and his wife, each with a glass of wine in hand, mingled and worked the crowd. Mrs. Preston didn’t flirt with Rusty, but she came over and told him and Gloria they were just going to have to come over for dinner one night.

              Old man Clanton came with his wife Beverly. Mr. Clanton took the death and circumstance pretty hard, for he and Al had been pretty tight at the bait shop. But not taking it so hard he didn’t match Ray and Alice beer for beer. The three of them went from sipping out of glasses to guzzling straight from the cans, like they were in a beer drinking contest. Alice’s weight did not fool old man Clanton.

              Gloria’s sister Glenda brought a guy she was dating. He wore glasses and a close-cropped gray beard. He was grouped up with a four intellectuals--college professors, scientist at NASA, and such--who had homes on the river.

              Vivian Calvert came up to Rusty and they exchanged email addresses. Rusty asked her how she ever ended up in Clear Springs. She happened to be in Atlanta and heard about catfish grabbling, was intrigued about it, and heard there was an annual Catfish Rodeo in Alabama.

              “So, I came to Clear Springs. I walked into the bait shop. Saw Al talking to Clifford Clanton. I went up and started asking Al some questions and, well, the rest is history.”

              Gloria came over and got Rusty by the arm. “Excuse me, Vivian. May I borrow Rusty a moment?”

              “Only if you bring him back all in one piece,” Vivian replied.

              “That I will do.”

              Gloria took Rusty over to the far corner of her living room, where they had a grand view of Elk River. “I think Vivian has a little crush on you,” Gloria said.

              “Her lover or whatever he was just died.”

              “I think you have a little crush on her.”

              “She’s a bit intriguing. An outboard heir. Good-looking. But you’re the only girl for me, Gloria.”

              “I’m no girl,” Gloria said and took a sip of white wine. “And I’m no lady either. I’m just a mean old woman.”

              “Well, if mean has been what you’ve been to me the last month, I want some more of it.”

              “I didn’t come over here to talk romance.”

              “What do you want to talk?”

              “I need to ask two favors of you.”

              “And what would they be?”

              “So, here’s the scene. Al, of all things, did make a will the day after we got divorced. He left everything to me. So, I’m going to take Daddy’s old cabin and rent it out. The CIA or whoever the hell they are will take off all his computer equipment and files. The quarter of a million dollars they found in his safe deposit box uptown, it’s still being held. I really don’t want it. It has to be dirty money. I told Sammy to let those black ops guys come in and take it. I’m going to give all his clothes to charity. I’m going to keep Daddy’s old fishing boat.”

              “It’s still sitting under the water down there.” He pointed upriver, where Doc’s pier was.

              “Thanks for reminding me. What I want you to do is take Al’s boat and help me get rid of it. And I don’t want to see it around here anymore. Get rid of it for good.”

              “I can do that. What else, Gloria?”

              “The authorities have gotten all the DNA they want from his body. It is being cremated now as we speak. I want to spread his ashes on the river somewhere.”

              “That would be nice.”

              “Appropriate. The river took hold of him, Rusty, and gave him five more years of good life. He obviously came here to get revenge on Elmore King, but the river took his breath away. For five years anyway.”

              “You did that too, Gloria. You were more part of it than the river.”

              With that, Gloria planted a long big French kiss on him, for anybody who cared to look over in the corner of the living room to see.

              After they finally broke the kiss, Gloria said, “I don’t want to spread Al’s ashes alone. I wondered if you would go with me in the morning?”

              “I will.”

Chapter 49

Rusty connected the cap and fuse to the five sticks of dynamite that were placed right behind the helm of Al’s Boston Whaler. He let the long fuse hang over the gunwale.

              Then Rusty stepped over into Gloria’s wooden Chris-Craft. She took the box, leaned over, and dumped the ashes in the bottom of Al’s boat. Then she tossed the heavy cardboard box in and it landed and rested near the gas tank.

              They were right dab in the middle of the mouth of the Elk River, where it emptied into the Tennessee. The top of the sun was breaking the eastern horizon now.

              He handed the box of matches to Gloria and then got at the helm and cranked the engine. Gloria lit one of the kitchen matches and set it to the end of the fuse. Then she pushed Al’s boat away from hers.

              Rusty put the Chris-Craft in forward and pulled away, made a teardrop loop on out in the Tennessee and came back toward Al’s boat and then headed on up the Elk. He did a ninety degree like he was going over to the west bank of the Elk. But he just wanted them to get a clear view, so he taxied along cutting across the channel.

              The boat exploded into a big red and yellow ball. Even at this distance, Rusty and Gloria could feel the aftershock. It must be something about the smooth surface of the river and the shock keeps going unobstructed outward.

              A mushroom cloud boiled up into the sky.

              When it cleared, Rusty could see nothing. No debris, no floating pieces of Styrofoam from Al’s boat, anything. And that was a good thing.

              At the news about Al, Jenny had rushed back to Alabama. She was probably right now at the window of her condo there at The Point, looking out.

              Gloria put her arm in through Rusty’s. “I think that was a very appropriate send off for Al.”

              “Very,” Rusty said. “Hey, you remember how I said something like if our first night together worked out I would invite you out on a date?” Rusty asked.

              “Vividly.”

              “Well, tomorrow when they release the official report on Al, I thought well, it would be a good time to leave town.”

              “It might get a little hectic if we stuck around.”

              “I would like to invite you out for three nights. We go down to Mobile and see a play. Then we go over to Gulf Shores, stay right on the beach for a few days. All expenses paid by me.”

              “I accept, Rusty Clay. And we are going in your newly restored Mercedes?”

              “Of course.”

              “Let’s go pack.”

              “I got one appointment early this afternoon, Gloria, and then we’ll hit the road.”

Chapter 50

Rusty Clay sat at his roll-top desk in the office of The Redneck Detective Agency. He was dressed in his Dolopia dress uniform--his fifty dollar jeans, an ironed long sleeve dress white shirt and his black boots.

              “Gloria Davenport has McAllister blood,” he said aloud.

              Then the footsteps could be heard coming up his stairs. They were light footsteps but Rusty knew they did not belong to a light person.

              He got up and walked to the door. He opened it just as Joanna King got to the top landing. Mrs. King was a pleasant looking woman of about sixty. She was roundish and teetered on some invisible line. She could let herself go and quickly become obese or she could get on one of those weight loss programs and soon have a waist line again.

              As she caught her breath from the stair climb, Rusty said, “Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. King. And I would have been more than glad to come to your house.”

              Mrs. King waved her hand, no, no, no. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Clay. And call me Joanna.”

              “Only if you call me Rusty. Please have a seat.” Joanna passed up the couch and sat at the desk by the window. She plopped her big purse over on the edge of the desk. “Something cold to drink, Joanna? Bottled water, Dr Pepper, a beer?” He opened up the little refrigerator.

              “Give me one of them Dr Peppers. One right now would shore taste good. And I’ll just suck it right out of the can.”

              Rusty smiled, got two cans of Dr Pepper, came over, popped the cans open, gave one to Joanna and sat opposite her.

              “When the investigation on Al Bolton is released this will be public and media information. But I just thought you should hear it from me first.”

              “And I appreciate that, Rusty.”

              Rusty pointed to the door, the only door in the place other than the bathroom door, the door with the glass upper half that read The Redneck Detective Agency in black lettering from the outside.

              Joanna glanced at the backside of that lettering and then back to Rusty. She took a big slurp of Dr Pepper.

              “A short time ago, your husband walked through that very door and then we sat down. He sat in that very chair you are sitting. He told me he had grabbled a two hundred fourteen pound catfish.”

              “Yes, he had. I saw it with my own eyes.”

              “He said he had that catfish hauled to Elk River, so he could grabble it at the annual Catfish Rodeo and claim a world’s record for biggest catfish ever grabbled unassisted.”

              “Well, he said he had a surprise for me. I didn’t know about that.” Joanna King shook her head.

              “But somebody stole that catfish from him. He paid me a five thousand dollar advance, to retain me to find out who stole his catfish. I told him I’d see what I could do. He got a page or a cell phone call or something and had to leave. He said he would come back on Friday and give me all the details. I came back Friday and waited for him to show up.”

              “But he was dead.”

              “Yes, ma’am. I didn’t find out until that Sunday.”

              “And then Dr. Compton was murdered?”

              “Yes, ma’am. And I was arrested for that. And if it weren’t for the kind heartedness of one Gloria Davenport I would still be in jail and the killer would still be at large.”

              “Bless her soul.”

              “Yes, bless her soul. And then I knew that two people, both from Winston County, both the same age, both murdered was…”

              “More than coincidence.”

              “Exactly. And it was from there I based my investigation. And had it not been for the Vargas Preston…”

              “The President of Dolopia College.”

              “Yes, had it not been for him, I’d never found the missing piece of the puzzle.”

              “You don’t know how much relief finding the murderer has given me, Rusty,” Joanna said and then grabbed her purse and plopped it right in front of her.

              She took a big gulp of Dr Pepper, maybe even finishing it off, and then started digging around in her purse. She came out with a check book and a fancy gold pen. “So, this advance Elmore gave you?”

              “Yes, I am prepared to refund it to you,” Rusty said.

              “Are you crazy?”

              “Yes, ma’am. I may be crazy.” Rusty said, before he realized what he was admitting to.

              “You are crazy. You got an advance. You found the killer. You did your job. How much more is the total fee?”

              “No ma’am. That’s not what I called you here for.”

              “I know it’s not. How much?”

              “Please, Joanna.”

              “Never let it be said that Joanna King does not fulfill her obligations.”

              Unlike her late husband Elmore Katfish King. Joanna fulfilling her obligations was probably all that kept Elmore alive so long.

              “I’m writing a check for five thousand dollars, Rusty, and I’m afraid I must insist that you take it and the cash so that I can rest my head easy at night.”

              Her hand was rather plump, but it was also rather agile. She wrote out a check very slowly and then signed it with an ornate signature, tore it out and pushed it over toward Rusty. Rusty politely just let it sit there.

              “Begging your pardon, Joanna, I did find his killer, but what your husband hired me to do was to find who stole his catfish.”

              “I think that is beside the point now, Rusty.”

              “No, ma’am. Al Bolton stole your husband’s catfish.”

              Joanna was looking right at Rusty and her eyes went wide like somebody had just

shoved a cane pole up her butt hole.

              “Yes,” Rusty said and told her the rest of the story.

              After he was through, Joanna King hugged Rusty and walked out a few thousand dollars poorer but still a very rich widow with a whole new life ahead of her.

              He escorted her all the way down to the street and opened the door for her to her big-ass brand new Cadillac SUV. When she closed the door, the tinted window cocooned her into her own little world.

              Rusty walked back up to his office. The spot right along the wall near the door looked as good spot as any for his Lifetime Achievement plaque. He picked up a nail and his hammer and at about eye level tapped the nail into the wall.

              He stopped tapping, but the tapping sound continued. The hammer in his hand was not moving. Rusty thought he had finally flipped out.

              Tap, tap, tap. It got louder and changed into a click, click, click. No mistaking that sound. Gloria’s footsteps were unique.

              He opened the door. Gloria appeared in the doorway, wearing a tangerine dress that came just below her knees, tangerine high heels, and a smile on her face. A big tangerine purse, hanging from a shoulder strap, rested against her hip.

              She marched on in and said, “I had to come into town for some last minute shopping before our big date. Saw your car parked down there, thought I would come up and say hello.”

              “Glad you did. Hello back at you.” He put the hammer down and hung the plaque on the nail.

              Gloria leaned over, read it. “Lifetime Achievement Award. To Russell “Rusty” Clay. The National Catfish Grabbling Association. For his unequalled contributions to Grabbling.”

              She looked at the plaque, like that was concrete proof Rusty was a redneck. But she didn’t say a word like that.

              She reached over into her tangerine purse and pulled out an 8x10 photo from a manila envelope. “I had this blown up for you.” She handed it to Rusty.

              It was a glossy reproduction of the picture that hung near her cash register. A ten year old Rusty Clay beside a strung up catfish that weighed more than he.

              Gloria took the picture from him, stepped over and laid it on the roll-top desk. She walked to the door and held out her hand toward Rusty.

              “It’s time for you to pay up that date you owe me. Let’s get down to that play in Mobile and then frolic on the sands of the Redneck Riviera. And I need to grabble me single handedly a Rusty Clay who’s greater than my own body weight.”

              “You might just win you a lifetime achievement award if you do it just right, Gloria.”

              “That’s what I’m aiming for.”

              They stepped out onto the landing. Rusty closed and locked the door. And before he told her, “Let’s go,” he took one last look at his door. There was something about it he sort of liked.

The End